Deprivation
by DarkUnderworld
Summary: There are times when no one can hear you scream, survival is a shaky concept, and help is much too far away...
1. Chapter 1

**Hey all! Another new story to sink your teeth into:) I hope you all enjoy and don't worry, t have not abandoned any of my other fics, I should have updates for all of them soon!**

**A huge thank you to Amonraphoenix for this lovely plot bunny and for beta reading this chapter for me, thank you sooo much!**

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Chapter 1

**Raphael** took in a slow breath; easy, measured, purposeful. The next moment, a soft exhalation left his parched lips. This outpouring of air was just as slow, measured and purposeful as the previous inhalation.

Taking in another slow breath, he listened to the soft, steady breathing of Michelangelo who was curled up on the floor beside him, unconscious.

He wanted to reach over and place his hand on his brother's shoulder, but the effort to move his arm felt too great.

Another soft exhalation of breath was taken, this one even slower and shorter than the last. His eyes slipped closed, a feeling of extreme exhaustion passing over him. His body felt so cold and oddly numb despite the numerous injuries that marred his body. He couldn't even feel the pain from his wounds anymore. He could tell that the pain was still there, but it felt as if it was part of something else; a part of _someone _else.

Dully, he could feel himself slowly drifting away, his eyes slipping closed. Someone was calling his name, but it sounded as if the voice was coming from far away and echoing strangely, as if he was hearing it through a long dark tunnel...

* * *

**6 hours earlier...**

**Raphael** changed the channel on the TV looking for _something_ to watch, and couldn't find anything.

"Two hundred channels and there ain't nothin' on," Raphael grumbled out loud in disgust, tossing the remote onto the couch in disgust.

Suddenly, Michelangelo leapt over the back of the couch and landed on the cushion next to him.

"That's why they invented video games, Raphie-boy." Michelangelo grinned happily as he leaned over and picked up the game controller from the coffee table and turned on his game consol.

Raphael glared at his baby brother with narrowed eyes, which didn't faze Michelangelo one bit. In fact, Michelangelo's grin only widened.

"I'm trying to watch TV, Mikey," he snapped angrily.

"You just said there was nothing on," Michelangelo pointed out.

"Doesn't mean I wasn't still watchin' the crap that _was_ on!" Raphael snarled furiously.

"I'm not deaf," Michelangelo complained as he winced slightly, throwing a glare back at him.

"Go away," Raphael barked, grabbing at the game controller and yanking if from Michelangelo's fingers.

"Hey!" Michelangelo protested loudly.

Raphael growled threateningly at Michelangelo daring him to try to take the control back.

Michelangelo, taking the hint, crossed his arms over his chest and flopped back against the cushions of the couch, an exaggerated pout upon his features. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Raphael continued to channel surf.

"But I'm so bored!" Michelangelo griped, slumping further down into the couch cushions.

Raphael attempted to ignore his brother as best as he could, finally managing to find what looked to be an action movie on TV.

Leaning forward he watched a high speed car chase and ensuing fire fight. He had seen the movie before and it wasn't even a good one, but he did enjoy the chase scene.

And then his brother's face was right in front of his own, wide, honey brown eyes pleading. "Come on, Raph, play Death Raiders with me, pleeeeease!"

"No," he stated firmly as he pushed his brother's face out of the way with his hand.

"Come on, Raph."

"If you don't get out of my face, I'm gonna rearrange yours," Raphael threatened, the chase scene over and his own boredom beginning to claw at him like an itch he couldn't scratch.

Michelangelo let out a heartfelt sigh designed to tug at Raphael's heart strings, but Raphael resolutely ignored the small twang.

Seeing that his tactics were failing, Michelangelo flopped back down on the couch again, picking up a much read comic book from the coffee table's surface.

"When are Leo and Donny supposed to be back anyway?" Michelangelo asked, a hint of hurt and dejection lacing his words.

"Later," Raphael answered vaguely, changing the channel, his interest caught against his will.

"How_ much_ later?" Michelangelo asked insistently.

"When they're done," Raphael answered offhandedly, wondering if the knives they were showing on TV were really as sharp as they said they were. He didn't cook, that was usually Michelangelo's thing, but still, a knife that could cut through a can was pretty awesome.

"But _when _will they be done?" he moaned persistently.

Closing his eyes in irritation Raphael tried to keep his temper in check. "When they're done, Mikey," he replied sharply through clenched teeth.

"But-"

"I don't know!" Raphael snapped, his attention focused solely upon his irritating baby brother. "Okay? I don't know! They went to help Casey fix the boiler in the basement of April's apartment building. So, however long that takes."

"You're just cranky because Leo made you stay here," Michelangelo pointed out.

"Leo was being an ass," Raphael grumbled.

"You were supposed to take out the garbage and do the dishes, but you didn't," Michelangelo reasonably pointed out the reason for his oldest brother's actions.

"I didn't want to go," Raphael refuted his baby brother's observation that he was angry because he had been told to stay at the lair. "You think I wanna go poke around in a dusty basement and listen to Donny jibber-jabber on about what the hell is wrong with the boiler? No thank you."

Michelangelo looked at him sceptically. "So you're saying you wanted Leo to punish you and tell you to stay here, which meant that he had to go instead?"

"Something' like that," Raphael answered smugly. "It ain't like I didn't wanna see Casey and April, but-"

"You just didn't want to crawl around in the dark, dank old basement where there are a ton of spiders and other creepy crawly bugs hanging around," Michelangelo finished with a broad, teasing grin.

"That ain't it!" Raphael protested indignantly, heat spreading across his cheeks.

"Sure it isn't," Michelangelo mocked.

"I owe Casey twenty bucks after I bet him that the Soxs would win their last game." Raphael groused. "I lost and I'm avoidin him."

"Uh-huh," Michelangelo nodded sagely, not fooled for a minute.

"Shut up, Mikey," he growled as he turned his attention back to the TV, ignoring his baby brother's presence.

Time ticked painfully by and Michelangelo let out another long suffering sigh. Raphael gave up his pretence of actually enjoying what he was watching.

"Fine, let's go," Raphael said, suddenly getting to his feet.

Michelangelo copied his action and asked, "Go where?"

"Out," Raphael answered firmly, even though he wasn't sure where he wanted to go yet either.

"But Leo said not to leave the lair," Michelangelo offered nervously.

"Yeah, well, Leo can stuff it," Raphael answered Michelangelo's concern with distain dripping in his voice. "Just 'cause Master Splinter is gone doesn't mean Leo's in charge."

"But..." Michelangelo paused for a moment before continuing. "Master Splinter did leave Leo in charge."

"Doesn't mean I gotta like it," Raphael answered with bitterness. It wasn't like they were children or even teenagers anymore. Master Splinter had passed away two years ago after contracting pneumonia. It still hurt thinking about it, and Raphael knew that Donatello had tried everything he could to help their father, but the truth was, their father was old, and there was nothing any of them could do.

"But Leo said the Purple Dragons have been more active lately and-"

"Enough, Mikey!" Raphael roared, tired of listening to his baby brother repeat Leonardo's words back to him. "Leo said we had to stay here, but he didn't say we couldn't go out for pizza."

"Pizza?" Michelangelo asked carefully.

"Yeah, Bonehead, pizza. I'm starvin,' and this place is so low on food that the jar of pickles and bottle of mustard are looking pretty appetizin'. So I say, lets' get somethin' actually food-like to eat."

Michelangelo hesitated for a moment.

"You can get whatever you like on you pizza," Raphael offered enticingly.

Michelangelo grinned, but wasn't yet convinced. "Even jellybeans and anchovies?"

Raphael felt his stomach roll at the suggestion and he repressed a grimace. "Whatever you want," he replied tightly.

"Awesome!" Michelangelo said excitedly, giving the air a fist pump.

"Great, let's go," Raphael said as he strode towards the entrance of the lair. He slid on a pair of boots, jeans, jacket and a hat; Michelangelo doing the same. Both of them, attired to blend in with the human world, exited the lair.

Raphael acknowledged to himself that he needed the exercise and the fresh air. And if they were really lucky, they would run into some scumbags that needed a good beat-down.

Grinning, Raphael cracked his knuckles in anticipation. It had been a week since they had left the lair and he was having a hard time not going stir-crazy. He could only beat the hell out of his heavy bag so many times before it became tedious and repetitive. A little skirmish with some gangland scum would be just what he needed; not that he was actually looking for a fight, but still. He was hopeful, but not expecting any trouble.

With Michelangelo following him, they made their way from the lair, into the city' s sewer system. They followed the winding tunnels to the manhole cover that was closest to their favourite pizza joint.

Removing the cover Raphael and his brother slipped out of the hole, and once the coast was clear, slid into the darkened shadows of the early night. It was just past dinnertime and the pizza joint was busy, but not overly so.

Pulling out his phone, Raphael called the pizza place and ordered four extra-large pizzas for pick up. Waiting the required fifteen minutes before the pizza would be ready, he listened to Michelangelo's effusive chatter on some new video game that April had bought for him.

A sudden awareness descended upon him as he slowly looked around. His keen eyes searched for trouble and found none. Relaxing slightly, he crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the rough brick wall of the alley.

Checking his phone, he pushed away from the wall a few minutes later. "Come on, Mikey. Let's get our pizza and go home," Raphael stated, not able to shake the heavy, uneasy feeling he felt slowly crawling its way across his skin.

As much a Raphael was itching for a fight, he didn't like the sick feeling of apprehension that had begun to twist in his gut.

Walking into the shop he quickly paid for the pizzas and walked with Michelangelo out of the shop and into the quiet, deserted street.

Looking around warily Raphael indicated for them to head back towards the manhole cover they had emerged from.

Shadows darker than the surrounding darkness shifted as three shapes slinked out from the darkness.

Raphael took two steps backward, bumping into Michelangelo. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed that Michelangelo had backed into him because nine Purple Dragons had emerged from the darkness, led by a hulking human that smiled at them maliciously.

"Looked like thirteen's your unlucky number, Freaks," Hun intoned viciously as he made a movement with his hand.

Raphael spun, his fist connecting with a jaw. The Purple Dragon's head snapped back and he hit the ground unconscious. A roundhouse kick took out the second Dragon, and the third had his feet swept out from beneath him and a crack on the head for good measure.

Smiling, Raphael cracked his knuckles in anticipation as he faced Hun. "That all you got?" he taunted with a smirk.

Hun crossed his arms over his chest and grinned broadly. "No," he answered smugly, the sound of more feet entering the alley.

Raphael took a step back, grabbing Michelangelo, pulling him around and pushing him in the opposite direction.

"Run!" Raphael barked sharply, shoving Michelangelo who dropped the pizzas as he stumbled forward.

"The Pizza!" Michelangelo gasped in horror.

Raphael ignored him, the sound of guns being armed and loaded nearly deafening as the first shot was fired, harmlessly tearing through the fabric of Raphael's jacket.

Through alleyways, twisting and turning they ran, trying to lose the Purple Dragons who pursued them.

Shots were fired and Raphael led them closer and closer to an abandoned section of warehouses, away from the general public and their scrutiny; not that the Purple Dragons cared if any innocent bystanders got in the way, but Raphael did.

Regretting his decision to go out and knowing that he was never going to hear the end of this when Leonardo found out that he and Michelangelo had left the lair and gotten dragged into trouble, he turned, determined to take out as many of the Purple Dragons as he could.

Michelangelo at his side, they moved from being on the defensive, to the offensive. More Purple Dragons were arriving by vehicle and no matter how many of the gang members he and his baby brother took out, two more seemed to take their place.

Panting with exertion, Raphael let out a frustrated battle cry as he charged a group of five Dragons who had managed to surround Michelangelo after knocking him to the ground and kicking him hard in the side. A chain suddenly wrapped around Michelangelo's throat and his baby brother made a distressed noise, clawing and struggling as his life was brutally choked out of him.

Crashing into the mob, Raphael swiped his sai through the air, the prong sliding effortlessly through the links of the chain, yanking it from both Michelangelo's throat as well as the Dragon's hand.

Raphael snarled angrily as he wrapped the chain around his free hand and pulled back his fist, smashing it into the Dragon's face. Blood spurted out of the gang member's ruined mouth as he lost a few teeth.

Quickly pulling a coughing and gagging Michelangelo up from the ground, Raphael backed away, searching for a way to escape.

He didn't mind taking on a few Purple Dragon goons, but he knew that he and Michelangelo couldn't take on the _entire_ gang by themselves, especially not with Hun leading the pack.

Raphael made sure Michelangelo was okay, and receiving an affirmative from his brother, made his way through a writhing mass of Purple Dragons, taking out as many of them as he possibly could trying to make a path for his baby brother to get away.

Shouts and cries collided with the grunts and exertions of the cool night as the writhing mass of odorous human bodies enveloped him. Battered and bloody he was suddenly pulled from the throng by Michelangelo, who smashed a pursuing Purple Dragon in the kneecap with his nunckuck, while another got the hardened length of wood smashed into his gut.

Looking a little worse for wear, Michelangelo pulled Raphael into the narrow space between two buildings, a few Dragons following them as they ran.

"We need to get out of here, Raph," Michelangelo panted in exertion.

"I know that," Raphael hissed, not needing his baby brother pointing out the obvious.

"FREAKS!" Hun roared, his fury at the incompetence of his followers to corner and subdue them ringing through the icy night air.

Running out from between the two buildings, Raphael ducked a crowbar that suddenly lashed out, nearly smashing him right in the face

Michelangelo leapt over him and launched himself at the hidden Dragon, easily disarming him and knocking him unconscious.

Raphael stepped over the unconscious human and looked around. Hun stood thirty feet away, with what amounted to a small army standing alongside him.

"Give up, Mutant Freaks, you have nowhere to run," Hun taunted them condescendingly .

"Go suck it, Hun!" Raphael shouted defiantly.

"Hey, you can't talk to our boss like that!" a lanky, sharp featured Dragon holding a rocket launcher shouted back.

"Put that thing away you Idiot. We want 'em alive. They're no use to us in pieces," Hun growled in warning.

"Yeah, Stupid, kids shouldn't play with guns," Raphael mocked.

"Hey, who, you callin' stupid?! And I'm not a kid!" he shouted as his voice cracked, giving lie to his words.

Raphael snickered.

"Enough!" Hun shouted. "Get them, and bring them back to me alive." Hun paused. "But if they put up any resistance, well…feel free to use whatever force is necessary. After all, alive doesn't mean they have to come to me with all of their bits and pieces," Hun purred smoothly and Raphael felt himself shift one foot backwards followed by another until his carapace hit the side of the building and he quickly looked over his shoulder.

"Mikey, door," he quietly hissed at his brother who quickly turned and slammed his shoulder against the locked door of the warehouse at their backs.

Raphael held off the three ambitious Purple Dragons that managed to make it to them. He took a punch to his plastron that knocked the air from his lungs followed by a hard blow to his head.

His world spun as he tasted the sharp bite of copper in his mouth from when he bit his tongue. Agony shooting through all of his synapses, he attempted to recover, but another blow to the head caught him off guard and he nearly passed out as he fell to his knees, stunned. Fighting to hold onto his consciousness and push away the darkness that floated at the edge of his vision, he took in a deep breath and screamed at himself and willed himself not to pass out, because Michelangelo needed him.

Giving a feral roar of rage and pain he smashed his fist into a thigh, bringing the Dragon to his knees with a howl of pain.

Raphael elbowed the dragon in the head and then struggled to his feet.

"Hey! Back off!" the youth holding the rocket launcher bellowed as a Dragon attempted to take the launcher from the kid, who resisted this act and caused a tug of war over the deadly weapon.

There was a hissing sound just as Michelangelo managed to break down the door.

"Run!" Raphael shouted pushing Michelangelo into the building as Purple Dragons scattered with terrified shouts and panicked screams as the rocket launcher fired.

Raphael and his brother drove for cover inside the building which suddenly turned into a blazing inferno filled with flying shrapnel, choking black smoke, searing heat and the ominous groan of the building as the explosion shook the building around them.

Clutching Michelangelo close to his chest, he shielded his baby brother as much as he could from the blast, twisting to protect Michelangelo as the floor beneath them suddenly gave way and Raphael felt them both fall into the darkness below them.

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**So what does everyone think so far?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey all! I hope everyone is enjoying their weekend:) Man, can't believe summer is almost over, crazy! Well anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter.**

**I would like to thank Adrenalize Me Dominosowner, SleepingSeeker, RedWritingRebel, dondena, luvgrentmnt, Tori657 and BubblyShell22 for all of your wonderful reviews!**

**And a huge thank you as always to my lovely and amazing beta, Amonraphoenix for beta reading this chapter for me!**

**now, please enjoy:)**

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Chapter 2

**Raphael** groaned as he slowly pried his eyes open, only to be greeted to the sight of Michelangelo's shadowed face only inches from his own. His baby brother's honey brown eyes were wide, shining orbs filled with terror and the sheen of freshly fallen tears.

The terror was quickly replaced with relief as Michelangelo buried his face into Raphael's throat, a sob escaping his brother's lips.

Raphael let out a hiss of pain as his brother hugged him tightly, causing daggers of sharp, biting agony to shoot through him. Michelangelo pulled back quickly and looked at him with guilty horror and concern.

"I-I'm sorry, Raphie, I... j-just th-thought y-you were...were..."his voice stammered to a halt unable to finish the awful thought.

"Yeah, yeah, Knucklehead, I ain't dead," he grumbled and grimaced as another sharp piercing torrent of pain lanced through him. At least... not yet.

"Raph...I'm scared," Michelangelo whimpered softly, yanking deftly at the strings of Raphael's heart.

Trying to distract his brother from his fear, he asked, "Y-you okay?" And was annoyed at how his voice wavered as he tried and partially failed to mask the amount of excruciating pain he was in.

Michelangelo paused before giving a quick nod. "I...I think I sprained my ankle when we fell...but, you broke my fall, so...I'm okay." He bit his lip. "Are you okay?" he asked in a small, worried voice.

"I'm good," he lied, avoiding his brother's concerned gaze while glancing around. They appeared to have fallen into a tiny room or passageway of some sort, only being about four feet wide by 10 feet long. The walls were of crumbling brick and mortar that looked as if they had been laid at least fifty years ago or more. Whatever it had been, the passageway or chamber had been sealed off long ago with brick at one end and a slab of thick concrete at the other.

It reminded Raphael of some of the old prohibition smuggling tunnels and storage areas he had seen on a documentary once, and guessed that it was possible that was exactly where they had landed.

Moving his eyes to the ceiling, he could see where they had fallen through the damaged concrete floor of the warehouse twelve feet above, but the opening was completely blocked by debris, most likely from the roof of the building having collapsed overhead.

The faint crackle and hiss of angry flames could be heard above them, and the resulting weak orange light infused the small chamber with enough light to see through the thin layer of smoke that seeped through the debris above them.

He gave a quick glance to his brother, knowing how much Michelangelo hated small dark places, which was exactly where they were trapped at the moment.

Raphael turned his attention back to his brother who looked at him, his gaze fearful, panicked, but at the same time, oddly focused and intense. Michelangelo slid his arms beneath Raphael's shoulders and tried to pull him up.

Raphael let out a grunt of agony and Michelangelo quickly pulled back, his face filled with fear and renewed anxiety.

"Raph?" he questioned, voice quavering with worry. "How...We need to see how badly you're hurt," he finished firmly.

"No, we need to get the hell outa here," Raphael growled as he shifted and winced as he tried to ignore the pain, and fight through it, forcing himself to stand, but found that he couldn't. Slumping back in defeat he let out a sharp cry followed by an irritated huff of breath.

"Raph-" Michelangelo began but Raphael cut him off.

"My leg's broken," he ground out in disgust, "and probably a couple ribs and my right arm. So you're gonna haveta look for a way outta here."

Michelangelo nodded, standing and limping around the perimeter of the small room. As his brother futilely looked for some other way out besides the blocked hole in the ceiling above them, Raphael surreptitiously slid his good arm under his jacket and shirt, wincing as he touched a deep gash in his side. He pulled his hand away and looked at the blood that coated his fingertips. He swore lowly under his breath. A piece of shrapnel had struck him in the side just under his ribs, between his plastron and carapace. He didn't know how bad he'd been hurt, but he strongly suspected that he was hurt pretty badly. He knew he needed Donny to look at his injuries sooner rather than later, but they needed to get out of the chamber first.

Moving his bloodied hand to his jacket, he pulled out his phone, which had been smashed in the fall. Closing his eyes he frowned in frustration and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

"Hey, Mikey, your phone workin'?" he asked in a raspy voice.

Michelangelo shook his head. "I don't know where it is. It must have fallen out of my pocket in the blast," he answered with a groan of frustration as he finished his slow progress around the room and hobbled over to where Raphael half lay against the rough brick wall.

"Great," Raphael grumbled closing his eyes and leaning his head back against cool brick.

"What do we do?" Michelangelo asked fearfully. "Even if we could climb out, the hole's blocked."

"Don't forget the fact that the warehouse is still burnin' above us," Raphael pointed out as he opened his eyes, looking at the barely discernible features of his baby brother. "Guess the only thing we can do is wait till either Donny or Leo notices we're missin', and hope they find us."

* * *

**Leonardo** put the van in park and turned off the ignition. Donatello slid from the passenger seat, exhausted but content and pleased with himself for having torn apart and fixed the boiler in the basement of April's apartment building.

Donatello liked nothing better than to tinker, and as far as Leonardo knew, his younger genius brother had probably not only fixed the rusty worn out hunk of what Leonardo would deem to be a pile of junk better placed in a junkyard, but improved it and made it better.

Leonardo had gone more for moral support, but had found himself roped into doing much of the heavy lifting with Casey while Donatello had lain upon his carapace and poked, prodded and fixed the boiler.

And because of this, Leonardo and Donatello were both covered in grease, oil, dust and what he suspected to be more than a few spider webs.

Letting out a tired sigh, he opened his door and slid from the van, looking forward to having a warm shower and then falling straight into bed. It had been a late night that had lasted into the early morning and he was ready for sleep.

Leaving Donatello to unwind in the lab, his mind already busy working on his next project , Leonardo walked through the quiet lair and into the bathroom to wash the grit and grime from his body.

Finishing with this, he made his way back to Donatello's lab to tell his younger brother not to stay up too late, and to get some sleep as Leonardo had planned for all of his brothers to train early in the morning.

Donatello gave him a small nod of acknowledgement and a half-hearted agreement that Leonardo knew his brother would forget about as soon as Leonardo left the room.

Letting out a sigh of resignation, he left his younger brother to do whatever it was that he did and accepted the fact that Donatello would be weary-eyed and sleep deprived for tomorrow's training session.

Making his way to the living room to check in with his other siblings, he found the area dark and unoccupied. Frowning, he made his way to the dojo, believing he would at least find Raphael, but he found it also to be dark and empty.

It was after one in the morning, but Leonardo did not expect for both of his younger brothers to be in bed. Of course, it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that both Raphael and Michelangelo had gotten sick of each other's company and rather than kill each other, had retreated to their bedrooms.

Feeling a small ball of worry settle into his gut, he made his way upstairs, and opted for the safer choice of bothering Michelangelo as opposed to riling his hot-headed brother. He knocked on Michelangelo's door and not receiving an answer after a few more knocks, opened the door and found the room to be empty.

The small ball of unease in his gut grew larger as he walked down the hall and knocked on his red masked brother's door. Not receiving any reply, he carefully eased open the door and found Raphael's room to also be empty.

Leonardo's skin began to tighten with worry and annoyance. He had specifically told his brothers not to go anywhere. Shoulders slumping, he grumbled under his breath at what was obviously Raphael's need to rebel against Leonardo's orders.

Anger shot through him over his hot-headed brother's need to disobey him at every turn, and this time he had dragged Michelangelo into it as well.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, he strode back down to the main level, heading to the kitchen to make himself some tea, intent on waiting for his two troublesome brothers to return.

Sitting at the kitchen table, he slowly drank his tea and wondered what he was going to have to do to get Raphael to understand that Leonardo was only looking after their family. Raphael had to learn to be more responsible and to look out for their family as opposed to turning his back on them, running headlong into trouble, and placing all of them in danger with his reckless behaviour.

After an hour of staring into his empty tea cup and coming no closer to knowing how to approach Raphael, the small knot of worry that he had been unable to completely banish from the bottom of his stomach grew into something akin to dread.

Pulling out his phone, he called both of his brothers and only got their voicemail. Standing, he made his way to the lab and roused Donatello, who had fallen asleep upon his keyboard.

"Raph and Mikey are gone," he told his brother, "and I'm worried."

Donatello pulled his hands down his face and began asking Leonardo questions in a rapid-fire manner, to which Leonardo quickly answered back.

Fingers flying across the keyboard, Donatello began to trace their brother's phones and found he wasn't able to track Raphael's, which sent a spike of anxiety flooding through him.

Tracking Michelangelo's phone, they narrowed down their baby brother's location to a warehouse close to the docks.

Sharing a fearful look with Donatello, he couldn't quite get rid of the heavy feeling of wrongness which had suddenly invaded his very soul.

* * *

**Raphael** watched as his baby brother's darkened figure slumped down in defeat across from him. Even though his efforts were futile, Michelangelo had refused to give up, scouring the darkened room, his fingers tracing the rough walls and looking for any weakness in the structure or any hidden hole they could make bigger with a few well aimed kicks or punches. Michelangelo had even attempted to reach the ceiling, standing upon the rubble that had fallen through the ceiling when they had, in order to discover some way out of the passageway, but there was none.

"We're trapped," Michelangelo whispered with fearful despondence. "There's no way out!" Panic gripped his brother and held on tightly.

Trying to calm his frightened brother, he replied, "Well, we ain't dead, so it's a start," he growled. "We just gotta wait till Leo and Donny get us outta here, that's all."

"Do you really think Leo and Donny are looking for us?" Michelangelo asked in a small, hopeful voice.

"Yeah," Raphael answered, not knowing if their two other brothers were really searching for them, but he gave his baby brother the hope that they were going to be rescued soon anyway.

Michelangelo slowly got to his hands and knees, shuffling over the few feet towards Raphael, kneeling in front of him and searching his eyes for the truth.

"Mikey, they're looking for us," Raphael told his brother firmly, his gaze holding his brother's in steady affirmation.

Michelangelo gave a curt nod and settled back against the same wall Raphael lay against.

Raphael didn't tell his brother that even if Donatello and Leonardo found them, that their brothers would have to somehow locate the warehouse, douse the fire, and then remove the debris that covered the opening before being able to actually pull them out from the small space they found themselves in, because he didn't want Michelangelo to lose hope and panic.

They had both heard fire trucks and sirens, but it seemed that the firefighters were content to let the building burn; probably focusing instead on stopping the spread of the fire. Of course, this was just Raphael's assumption. The fire department could very well be attempting to stop the blaze, but were having issues putting out the fire that ravaged the old, dry, wooden building that had gone up like a tinder box.

However, as time passed, Raphael found that keeping his eyes open was becoming increasingly difficult. He wondered how much of this was due to his injuries or just general exhaustion, until Michelangelo began to complain how tired he was as well.

It was then he realized that the fire that blazed above them, coupled with the small, and surprisingly air-tight space they were occupying, was slowly depriving them of their precious oxygen.

Heart beating rapidly in his chest, he silently prayed that his brothers would arrive soon, and that by some miracle, they had a plan, because if they didn't, he and Michelangelo were going to suffocate to death before they were rescued.

Attempting to keep them both awake and his brother's increasing lethargy at bay, Raphael began talking about inconsequential things at first; sports, the weather, and crime in the city, anything to keep his brother's mind occupied and away from the growing tiredness that was infecting both of them.

All the while, Raphael's mind spun. He knew he was helpless to get them out of the situation they were in, but he had to find some way -do something- to save his baby brother; because it was his fault Michelangelo was there with him instead of safe at home playing video games or sleeping in his bed.

Taking in a slow breath, an idea slowly began to take form in his mind, and once it was fully formed, Raphael knew it was the only option he had. He needed to give Leonardo and Donatello more time; and time was something he and Michelangelo did not have enough of.

"You know why I piss Leo off?" Raphael asked out of the blue. The question so startled his baby brother that he was able to make out his brother's eyes widening in shock. Michelangelo managed to bestir himself enough to sit up straight and swivel around to see Raphael's face better.

"Why?" Michelangelo asked in sleepy curiosity.

"Cause it's my job," Raphael answered blithely.

Michelangelo shook his head, and probably rolled his eyes, not that Raphael could see too well in the gloom that surrounded them anymore. The fire above them must have burned down a little, because the light that had been filtering from above them, seemed to be waning.

Michelangelo was about to flop back against the wall, but Raphael's next words caught and held his attention again.

"I fight with him and give him a hard time because if I didn't, we wouldn't get him out of the dojo. He trains, he patrols this city, and for what? Nothin'. But it's what makes him tick. He protects us and this city, but what about him? He forgets that there's more to life than tryin' to live up his unreal expectations of himself and what he thinks Master Splinter would have wanted. I miss my _brother_, so I gotta remind him that he's not our father, and I gotta do this by pissin him off and makin him loosen up a bit an live a little."

"Raph..." Michelangelo's words trailed off as if he wasn't quite sure to say. "Wait. Is that why you didn't do your chores today, so Leo would make you stay in the lair as 'punishment' which meant he would have to go in your place?" Michelangelo asked.

Raphael gave a smirk. "I know I always say I hate Leo, but I don't. I admire the guy, hell, I love him. It doesn't mean he don't drive me crazy, but I wouldn't want it any other way. You all drive me nuts, but you're my brothers; we're supposed to get under each other's skin."

"Raph, you're starting to freak me out," Michelangelo said, reaching out and grabbing him by the shoulders and very gently shaking him. "Were going to get out of this," Michelangelo insisted, his voice filled with the strong belief that his words were nothing but the absolute truth.

Raphael gave a small humourless smile, amused that it was now Michelangelo who was now trying to comfort him. "Well, just in case we don't, I'm lettin' you know that I love ya," Raphael told his baby brother sincerely, concentrating on each word he was going to say.

"Raph, we're going to be fine," Michelangelo assured him, his words slurring slightly.

Raphael only snorted and gave his brother a lopsided grin. "You're a pain in my ass, Mikey," he said affectionately and Michelangelo grinned. "But, you're right, Leo and Donny are gonna find us. And…I'm sorry, Mikey."

"Raph, this wasn't your fault."

Lightning quick Raphael used his remaining strength to lift his arm and smash his baby brother across the head with the butt end of his sai. Michelangelo's eyes rolled up into his head and slumped to the floor in an unconscious heap.

"Yeah it is," he replied regretfully. Leaning forward as much as he was able to, Raphael used his good hand to find the pulse at Michelangelo's throat, hoping he hadn't done more damage than just knocking his brother unconscious. Finding his brother's strong pulse beneath his fingertips, he sorrowfully told his brother, "I'm sorry for draggin' you out and I'm sorry for havin to do this, but Donny and Leo need more time, so I gotta give it to them, and this is the only way I can think to help 'em out. And besides…I'm probably dead anyway."

* * *

**Michelangelo** painfully pried his eyes open and blinked at the inky darkness that surrounded him. Fear clutched at his heart as terror rose up within him and threatened to choke him. Reaching out blindly with his left hand he encountered the leg of his older brother and let out a sigh of relief. He didn't like small, dark places, but as long as he wasn't alone, he knew he would be okay.

Trying to remember what had happened, and why he felt so tired, he shifted his position. Clutching at his head he found a large bump and winced in pain.

"Raph?" his words were slow and slightly slurred. His memory felt foggy and his tongue had a strange taste, almost metallic, like iron, with tiny pin picks riding along its surface.

"Ra…Raphie...? You still...awake?" he asked, his mind feeling oddly clouded and he couldn't seem to concentrate. A thought would flutter around in his head like a frightened moth getting too close to the light before everything went dark, and the thought vanished without a trace.

Feeling along his brother's leg, he crawled closer to Raphael, his hand falling upon his brother's jacket covered plastron. He moved his hand further up until he found his brother's shoulder. Roughly he shook it. "Raphie," he murmured. "Don't...don't fall ashleep," he slurred, trying to wake his brother up.

He knew Raphael had been hurt, probably worse than he was admitting; which wouldn't be unusual for his hot-headed older brother, but still, Michelangelo was worried.

Deep down in the cotton-ball filled recesses of his fog laced mind, he knew that sleeping was a bad thing, which meant that no matter how much Raphael wanted to sleep, Michelangelo couldn't let him.

"Come on, Raphie, wake up," he insisted managing to shake his brother's shoulder harder, trying to rouse him. Frowning in confusion, he shook his brother yelling his name as panic managed to clear away a few of the cobwebs that had suffused his barely functioning brain.

"RAPH!" he shouted again, waiting for his brother to give some acknowledgement of his efforts. And getting none, he felt horror and terror skitter down his carapace. "NO!" he shouted in disbelief, shaking his head back and forth in disbelief. His brother couldn't be...

"WAKE UP!" he screamed, fear digging its icy claws into his heart and squeezing with brutal intent. "Y-you don't...you can't leave me alone," he told his brother tearfully as a twin trails of wetness trickled down his cold cheeks. "You can't give up! Donny and Leo are looking for us and they're gonna find us and get us out of here!" he insisted, giving his brother's unresponsive body another hard shake. "So you can't..." He choked on a sob, unable to finish his sentence. Swallowing, he tried again, pleading with his brother to open his eyes, to say something, to do anything other than just laying there like a broken doll.

"Please, Raphie. Please don't leave me," he begged wretchedly. "You don't get to die on me and leave me all alone!" he snapped suddenly angry. "You don't get to give up on me 'cause I'm not giving up on you, or Leo and Donny! We are getting out of this together!" he snarled vehemently, hoping that yelling at his brother would motivate him enough to wake him up.

The silence stretched forward, only the sounds of the wooden structure groaning above their heads breaking the deathly stillness that surrounded them.

Letting out a sob he buried his face into his brother's clothing covered plastron. "Please, please, please, Raphie," he repeated over and over again. He couldn't lose his older brother, he couldn't. Losing his older brother would mean losing a piece of his own heart, and he didn't think he would be able to bear that kind of pain.

"Raphie," he softly begged again, this word slurred and indistinct. "Don't leave me," he murmured.

Suddenly Raphael's arm slowly moved and Michelangelo felt it being placed over his carapace. "S'okay, Mikey. 'things gonna be...okay," Raphael promised, his voice rough but filled with promise.

Tears of relief stung Michelangelo's eyes and his throat closed up. Unable to speak for a moment he buried his face into his brother's chest even more. Raphael gave a grunt, though whether in pain or acknowledgement, Michelangelo wasn't sure, but he accepted this grunt as an affirmation that Raphael's words were true, and relaxed, feeling his eyes drift shut.

Realizing that he was falling into sleep, he tried to open his eyes, to fight against the lethargy that deftly wrapped its comforting tendrils around him, but found that the effort to do so was completely beyond him. He found himself oddly content, wrapped within his brother's warm comforting embrace.

* * *

**Hope you all enjoyed! Only one more chapter after this one!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello all! I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter due to the fact that my computer up and died:( Boo, luckily I was able to get everything from my hard drive so I didn't lose anything! Hooray!**

**Anyway, I would like to thank all of my lovely reviewers helfyrephoenix, dondena, Athese, Tori657, AdrenalizeMe, MissCookiiie, and SleepingSeeker.**

**Also a huge thank you to Amonraphoenix for Beta reading this chapter! If it wasn't for her, this fic totally wouldn't have happened!**

**And now, please enjoy...**

* * *

Chapter 3

**Leonardo's** heart constricted with repressed terror as he and Donatello waited for the fire engines and emergency personnel to finally leave the area.

They had tracked Michelangelo's cell phone, which had been dropped a few blocks away from a warehouse that had lit up the night with an orange glow; the flames hungrily devouring the wooden structure and spewing out billowing black smoke into the darkened night sky.

The sickening, gut wrenching knot of worry in his stomach grew even heavier at the sight of the engulfed warehouse, and he knew deep down in the pit of his stomach that somehow Raphael and Michelangelo were involved in the early morning blaze. He just didn't know_ how_ involved they had been.

Spotting a few Purple Dragons lurking in the shadows, watching the fire with malicious fascination, Leonardo's heart sank into the pit of his stomach, which was already swimming with too much knotted dread to accommodate the added organ.

When confronted, he and Donatello did not even have to threaten or beat the answers from the two cornered Dragons about the whereabouts of their missing siblings. The information had spilled forth freely, offered in a taunting tone, coupled with snide remarks and vindictive pleasure as the Dragons revealed the horrific fate that had befallen their brothers.

Fighting against the overwhelming grief that threatened to consume him, Leonardo was determined not to give up hope that somehow Raphael and Michelangelo had managed to survive the explosion caused by a rocket that had been launched into the warehouse where Raphael and Michelangelo had taken cover.

The emergency crews finally left the area, the red and blue flashing lights disappearing into the early morning darkness, and he and Donatello began the frantic, adrenalin pumping task of scouring the smouldering ruins of the once giant warehouse.

Trudging through the charred, sodden debris looking for any signs of their missing siblings, Leonardo and Donatello both raised their voices, calling out for their brothers. Hampered by the darkness and the moist heat that surrounded them, they arduously moved beams, boards and rubble; their heaving breaths and grunts of exertion mingled with the calls of their brothers' names becoming the only sounds filling the night.

Leonardo hefted yet another heavy beam, throwing it to the side as he uncovered nothing but more of the burned out structure that had partially collapsed in on itself. The more debris he shifted without finding any sign of his missing brothers, the more his heart should have been filled with hope; the hope that his brothers weren't actually in the building when it had exploded and burned, but for some reason, this particular emotion eluded him.

The feeling of wrongness -of dread- sat like a heavy ball of lead within his gut and did not dissipate; no matter how many heavy pieces of scorched and charred wood he moved that only revealed more scorched, and charred wood and concrete beneath.

Looking over his shoulder, he checked to see Donatello's progress. Part of the structure was still standing and after determining that Raphael and Michelangelo could not have gotten very far before the rocket had struck, they concentrated their efforts on the section of the building closest to the door.

Moving another charred and broken beam, he threw it out of the way. Pulling a few more broken hunks of wood from at his feet, he still found nothing. Shoulders slumping in defeat, he straightened and looked towards Donatello, his brother wearing the same cloak of defeat around his shoulders as he did.

Slowly clambering over charred and ruined beams, he slowly made his way to where his brother stood.

Donatello glanced up at him and then away, his eyes searching the carnage, calculating, compiling and sifting through the information he was collecting.

"Is it..." Leonardo began, his voice hoarse from shouting his brother's names in the vain hope that they would answer. "It is possible that...that there's…nothing left of them?" he asked, voice shaking as his throat tightened in fear at the grim, horrifying answer.

Donatello closed his eyes before giving a quick nod. "It...it's possible that the force of the blast coupled with the intense heat..." Donatello's voice caught in his throat and he cleared it before continuing. "But...there sh-should be some re...remains left," Donatello managed to choke out as he took another deep, steadying breath and tried to push his grief aside and look at the situation logically.

Leonardo, blinking back the tears that filled his eyes at his brother's words, cleared his throat and nodded.

"But we've found no evidence of this," Donatello observed, his voice gaining in strength as he wiped away a few tears that hung upon the edges of his eyes. "There is nothing to suggest that either Mikey or Raph were caught in the blast," he stated firmly.

Leonardo nodded again in understanding. Donatello was holding onto this faint hope, and Leonardo could do no different. His brother was right. They hadn't found any evidence of their brothers and that was a good thing.

Donatello scanned the wreckage and negotiated his way over to a promising pile of debris and began pawing through it, his muscles straining as he tried to move a particularly heavy structural beam.

Moving quickly to help his overburdened brother, they hefted the beam together, revealing yet another layer of charred, broken and shattered wood remains burned beyond recognition.

Determination filling him, Leonardo helped Donatello clear more and more of the wood away, because the debris seemed to go below the layer that should have been the ground level of the warehouse.

Sharing a look with Donatello, renewed hope flared within them as they pulled away a shattered piece of plywood, revealing a small hole about the size of his fist in the floor beneath their feet.

"There's something under here!" Donatello shouted, able to shine his light into the hole, but unable to see anything in the feeble beam of the flashlight produced in the inky blackness of the hole below them.

Pulling away more of the heavy debris, a few twisted steel beams wedge in the slowly growing hole, making it difficult to clear a true space, Donatello again shined the light downwards.

Leonardo's heart leapt into his throat as the beam from the flashlight caught Michelangelo's arm. Hope flared in him and he and Donatello rapidly pulled away more and more of the rubble, exposing a hole wide enough that they were able to see into the entirety of the cavity their brothers had fallen it into.

There lay Raphael, slumped against a brick wall, his arm thrown protectively over Michelangelo who was curled into his older brother's chest. At first glance it looked only as if his two brothers were sleeping peacefully together, awaiting rescue, but then Leonardo noticed the blood, and the fact that when the light hit upon his brothers' faces, they did not move.

"Mikey! Raph!" Donatello shouted, and Leonardo had no doubt that everything that Leonardo had just observed, Donatello had noticed as well.

Donatello's worried call did not produce any movement or acknowledgement from either of their siblings, and Leonardo felt a rush of terrified adrenalin fill him.

"We need to get them out of there," Donatello insisted quickly, but Leonardo was already moving, trying to shift more of the ruined warehouse debris and make a hole big enough for them to pass through to reach their brothers.

"Donny?" Leonardo asked in a shaky voice, as together they pulled a large beam of steel from the hole.

"I don't know," he answered briskly, his mind obviously calculating certain variables and odds, and coming to a conclusion that Leonardo probably didn't want to know about.

Finishing the task in a heavy, grim silence, Leonardo gave into his fear and blinking back tears that suddenly stung his eyes, asked miserably, "W-what if we're too late?"

"They are no doubt suffering from oxygen deprivation, which is the most likely reason they are unresponsive and unconscious," Donatello offered, his voice trying to sound factual and brisk, but Leonardo could detect the hint of worry and fear that infused his words anyway, because the other option besides unconscious was of course…dead.

Moving as quickly as they were able, Leonardo could only pray that they hadn't been too late; that they hadn't just stood outside watching the fire burn and leaving their brothers to die in a tiny tomb, slowly being deprived of their life giving oxygen.

Leonardo backed away from the hole they had created and Donatello quickly secured a rope to a metal beam before lowering himself down first, Leonardo following right on his younger genius brother's heels.

The chamber they found themselves in was narrow, cramped and small. The ceiling was perhaps twelve feet above their heads, not an easy distance, but not an impossible one either, but it was obviously that their two brothers had been unable to do anything to escape as the hole above their heads had been blocked and there appeared to be no other way out.

Bracing himself, Leonardo quickly looked at his two younger siblings, Donatello kneeling in front of them, his shaking fingers digging into Michelangelo's neck, and attempting to find a pulse.

Racing to his brothers' side, Donatello exclaimed, "He's alive!" his voice filled with cautious relief. "But just barely. We need to get him out of here and get him on oxygen as soon as possible!"

Leonardo reached for Michelangelo, pulling him off of Raphael's chest with Donatello's help and hefting his baby brother into his arms.

Donatello hurriedly turned his attention to Raphael, murmuring, "Come on, Raphie," as he dug his fingers further into Raphael's throat, desperately searching for a pulse.

Donatello's shoulders slumped, his head bowing forward as he took in a shuddering breath, gathering himself up to give him the news that Leonardo already knew in his heart to be devastating.

Donatello's pale face finally turned to his and he shook his head, a movement Leonardo was barely able to discern through the tears of grief that suddenly filled his eyes. Quickly blinking away the dampness, Leonardo felt determination fill him. "Donny, you take Mikey, I'll try to get Raph breathing-"

"Leo..." Donatello interrupted "He's gone," he stated with a grim finality that seared Leonardo's very soul and shattered it.

"No," Leonardo bit out, ignoring the evidence all around him: the pool of blood, the lack of a pulse and the blue tinge to Raphael's skin. He still stubbornly shook his head back and forth in denial. "He's not gone. We can still save him, it's not too late."

Abruptly standing, Donatello, with tears streaming down his face and anger blazing in his eyes, furiously roared at Leonardo, "HE"S GONE!" Donatello choked on these words as his voice cracked in pain and grief. "And...and if we don't get Mikey out of here, we'll lose him too." Wiping away his tears with the back of his hand Donatello took Michelangelo gently from Leonardo's arms and settled him over shoulders in a fireman's carry.

Carefully, Donatello climbed the rope, pulling himself and Michelangelo from the small chamber and into the ruined, burned out warehouse above them.

Once Michelangelo had safely been lifted out and deposited on the rubble strewn floor, Leonardo turned his attention back to Raphael, and he found that he was barely able to remain standing.

He took a moment to compose himself because he wanted to clutch at Raphael's body and shake him violently, telling him that they were there and to come back to them, but he knew that this plea would be far too late for his brother to acknowledge or respond to.

Leonardo forced his feet to approach his brother's corpse. Kneeling down, he slowly picked up his brother's bloodstained sai, and slipped it through his belt before sliding his hands beneath his brother's limp arms and pulling him up from the floor -sticky with too much drying blood- and hefting Raphael's body over his shoulders.

Knowing he needed to move quickly, but feeling like he was wading through quicksand, Leonardo forced his sluggish appendages to complete the task of removing their brother's body from what could have become his tomb.

Exiting the chamber, Leonardo pulled himself up and into the night, the air filled with the overpowering scent of smoke and small flakes of white ash that drifted lazily upon the light wind.

Silently, Donatello quickly, but gently, scooped Michelangelo up into his arms, making steady progress across the mangled remains of the warehouse floor towards the parked van.

Leonardo, reverently performing the same task with Raphael, swiftly followed his genius brother to the van. Donatello, gently placed Michelangelo upon the floor of the van, Leonardo doing the same with Raphael as Donatello clambered into the back, checking Michelangelo for other injuries and hastily assessing their baby brother's vitals.

Closing the door to the back of the van, Leonardo ran to the driver's side door, throwing it open and leaping inside, starting up the engine and peeling off in to the night with a screech of tires, and the strong scent of burning rubber that mixed in with the strong scent of burnt, damp wood.

His heart was heavy and his cold cheeks were damp; stained with the silent tears that had streamed unheeded down his face.

* * *

**Leonardo** looked over as Donatello entered Michelangelo's bedroom. They had placed their baby brother in his bed, hoping that the familiarity of the space would somehow comfort their still unconscious brother whose only injuries appeared to be carbon monoxide poisoning, a sprained ankle, and a bump on the head.

Of course, this diagnosis could have been completely different if they had arrived but a few scant minutes later, and they would instead be preparing to bury two brothers instead of one.

It had been a few hours since they had pulled their brothers from the warehouse and Leonardo hadn't left their baby brother's side. If he were honest with himself, the reason for this was two-fold. Firstly, he did not want to leave Michelangelo's bedside in the eventuality that his brother actually woke up. He wanted to be present for this, so that he could reassure Michelangelo that he was safe and at home.

Secondly, if he stayed within the confines of Michelangelo's bedroom, then he wouldn't have to focus upon the fact that two brothers had been caught up within the blast of the warehouse, but there was only one he knew would open his eyes again.

They had lost their red masked brother that night, and Leonardo couldn't deal with it…not now. He knew he needed to be strong for his remaining brothers, but he found that at the moment, he was not able to gather the strength required to do this task; which felt monumental and completely beyond his abilities.

And cowardly though it was, Leonardo had allowed Donatello to deal with their brother's corpse, because Donatello had asked him to look after Michelangelo, and Leonardo hadn't protested this arrangement; even though he should have.

Donatello quietly approached the bed and Leonardo quickly stood from the chair he had spent the last few hours sitting in. Donatello ignored the proffered seat, even though it looked as if he was about to collapse.

Dark circles had appeared beneath Donatello's eyes and he looked to have aged several years within the last few hours. Numbly, Leonardo wondered if he too looked as bad as Donatello did, and concluded that he probably did.

Donatello bent over Michelangelo and adjusted the oxygen mask that had been placed over their brother's face, methodically checked their baby brother's vitals. Seemingly satisfied that their brother was stable and comfortable, Donatello motioned with his head towards the doorway.

Leonardo wanted to protest leaving Michelangelo's side, in case he woke up, but the grim set of Donatello's features, as well as the grief-stricken exhaustion that hovered within his younger brother's eyes forced him to gather whatever strength of will he still possessed, and followed Donatello into the hall.

Donatello however did not stop just outside the doorway and instead proceeded down the hall towards the stairs that would take them down to the main floor. Stopping, Leonardo looked over his shoulder at Michelangelo's bedroom in silent protest. Donatello, sensing this movement offered up the assurance that 'Mikey will be fine for a few minutes.'

Having no choice but to accept Donatello's reassuring words, Leonardo followed his younger brother down the stairs, through the lair, and into his lab, where Leonardo knew that Raphael's body lay.

Taking a few deep breaths and sternly telling himself that he needed to take responsibility -to be strong, and to stop acting like a coward- Leonardo walked to the cot where Donatello stood, silent and motionless, like their brother's body hidden from view by a crisp white linen sheet.

Feeling as if he was living his worst nightmare which had leapt from his mind and become horrifically tangibly real, Leonardo looked at Donatello's forbidding features.

Without saying anything Donatello walked to the side of the cot opposite of where Leonardo stood, and without any warning, threw the sheet back from Raphael's peaceful face.

Seeing Raphael lying like that upon the table nearly broke him. His legs nearly gave way as a tidal wave of grief and regret washed over him. A thousand 'if only's' burned though his mind as he tried to come to grips with the fact that as his brother lay dying in a dark hole under a burning warehouse, he had been fixing a boiler, and when he had gotten home, he had sat, silently fuming at Raphael for leaving the lair, and thinking of the lecture he would give to him.

And now all he could do was regret that his final words to his hot-headed sibling, had been ones of anger and disappointment.

He didn't know why his two brothers had been out last night, or how they had ended up in the warehouse district, and Leonardo found that the answer did not really matter, because the stark reality of the situation lay before him, motionless, and unresponsive upon a cot.

"There's something I wanted to show you," Donatello offered softly, his words sounding like nails upon a chalkboard as they ripped through the oppressive silence that had fallen over them. "Raph..." Donatello's voice cracked as Leonardo watched his brother valiantly try to hold it together. His brother's lip quivered and his eyes brightened with tears he rapidly blinked back. Donatello licked his dry lips and attempted to speak again. "Raph had extensive injuries."

"The blood…" Leonardo whispered softly.

Donatello continued as if he had not spoken, as if he needed to get out what he needed to say in one go, or else he would be unable to do it at all. "A broken femur, a deep laceration to his side, three broken ribs, a broken humorous, and a shattered radius and ulna. I think he managed to shield Mikey from much of the blast and took the entire impact of their fall."

Leonardo blinked back the moisture that blurred his vision, his throat closing up on him so that he was unable to speak. But Donatello didn't seem to be waiting for him to say anything because he continued to talk.

"His wounds were, as I said, extensive and very serious, but with proper medical attention…they were survivable."

Leonardo's eyes widened in confusion as his brain tried to understand what it was that Donatello was trying to tell him.

That was when Donatello reached over and moved the white sheet away, exposing only Raphael's arms.

Deep molted bruising covered his brother's flesh, his one arm swollen and slightly misshapen. But this was not what arrested his attention. Instead, two, long, deep vertical cuts marred each arm in an identical way.

There could be no mistaking the purpose or the deliberateness of the cuts, or the way in which they had been inflicted.

Eyes flying to Donatello, he looked for confirmation of what he suspected, but Donatello didn't say anything, only pulling the sheet and covering Raphael's arms back up.

Unable to take the tense silence anymore, Leonardo opened his mouth, his voice a croak of disbelief and horror. "Donny, did Raph…did he…?" he wanted to get the words out, to confirm the awful truth, but he couldn't, his voice choking on the sob of horror that rose unbidden in his throat and escaped past his lips.

Shaking his head from side to side Leonardo begged Donatello to tell him some truth, other than the one that involved Raphael taking his own life, and bleeding to death propped up against a brick wall, lying upon a cold hard cement floor in the dark.

"Why?" The word was clamouring around in his head, screaming at him over and over again, but this word that sounded so loud in his head only came out as a pitiful strangled whisper of inquiry.

"W-we found Mikey b-barely alive…" was all the answer Donatello seemed to be able to give before he broke and leaned over burying his face into Raphael's exposed neck.

Great, heaving sobs of grief were torn from Donatello's mouth, and this display shattered whatever strength of will Leonardo had cobbled together that had allowed him remain standing.

Stumbling around the cot, Leonardo pulled Donatello from Raphael's corpse and turned his brother around, wrapping him in his arms and slowly sinking to the ground where he was unable to contain his own grief any longer, and let go, burying his beak into Donatello's shoulder and sobbing out his wretchedness as Donatello continued to weep miserably.

There upon the floor and wrapped in each other's arms, cloaked in an anguish that seemed insurmountable, Leonardo had a moment of clarity, of complete and total understanding, which only served to deepen his grief further; if this were even possible.

Eventually pulling away from each other, tears were hastily wiped away and Donatello mumbled that he had should go and check on Michelangelo and Leonardo gave an understanding nod. Helping each other off the ground, Leonardo watched Donatello leave his lab.

Turning his attention back to Raphael's motionless body, he brushed his fingertips gently across the surface of his dead brother's cold cheek.

Leonardo wasn't sure if his hot-headed brother believed himself to be dying or not, but it was obvious that he had known that they were running out of oxygen, and had decided that he was going to give their baby brother the best chance of survival…by taking his own life.

This thought alone brought another wave of tears to sting his eyes and trickle down his cheeks. Leaning over he did as Donatello had done, burying his beak in Raphael's shoulder and sobbing out his heart wrenching grief, coupled with deep thankfulness for the selfless act of heroism Raphael had performed.

Dragging himself away, Leonardo placed his forehead against his brother's. "You did good, Raph, you did good. I love you, little brother. Thank you." Laying a kiss upon his brother's forehead, he reluctantly stepped away, taking one last look at Raphael's face before pulling the sheet up and over his brother's immobile features.

A few hours later, faces composed into lines of worry coupled with hope, Michelangelo opened his eyes.

Their baby brother, before Donatello was even able to speak, sat up quickly, and launched himself into Donatello's arms.

"I knew you'd find us and save us!" Michelangelo wailed gratefully, and Leonardo swore that a tiny piece of his soul broke at his baby brother's thankful words. Donatello must have experienced the same thing, because his younger genius brother stiffened, before giving Michelangelo a tight hug before pulling away and fussing over him.

"How do you feel, Mikey?" Donatello asked, his voice full of concern.

"I'm okay. My head hurts a little, and my ankle throbs a bit, but other than that I'm okay."

"I'll see if I can get you something for the pain," Donatello offered and Michelangelo nodded as he wiped away the tears of relief and thankfulness that had made their way down his cheeks.

Leonardo smiled, but the smile felt as if it would shatter his face completely. His baby brother was alive, and for that he could not be more grateful, but they had lost a brother as well.

Michelangelo's eyes slid to Leonardo's and after a moment, he paled, eyes sliding to Donatello for confirmation of what he suspected. Eyes going wide in disbelief and terror, Michelangelo asked in a small voice, "W-where's Raph?"

Donatello swallowed, taking Michelangelo's hand in his own, but Michelangelo roughly pulled it away; anger and grief filling his eyes. Taking in a shuddering breath that ended with a sob, Michelangelo pulled himself together, staring at his hands which had fisted themselves into his blankets.

"H-he didn't make it...did he?" Michelangelo asked, his voice no more than a whisper as he roughly wiped away at a tear that trembled at the edge of his eye.

Donatello shared a devastated look with Leonardo, his gaze pleading.

Kneeling down beside where Donatello sat in the chair that was pulled up to the bed, Leonardo licked his dry lips, and swallowed roughly before attempting to speak. "Mikey-" he began softly, but Michelangelo waved his words away.

"He saved my life," Michelangelo stated bluntly and Leonardo's heart twisted at the guilt that he saw permeate his baby brother's grief-stricken eyes. "H-he was...he was talking like…like he _knew_ he wasn't going to make it," Michelangelo murmured softly, his voice wavering and catching in his throat. "He was pretending like he was okay, but I knew he was hurt, worse than what he was admitting." Michelangelo waited, begging them with his eyes to tell him that Raphael was fine, and that he was just in his bedroom recovering, but they couldn't.

Leonardo had to look away for a minute from his baby brother's devastated hazel eyes, because if he didn't, he was going to break down, and he couldn't afford to do that anymore. He needed to be strong, he needed to support his shattered family and help them pick up the pieces as best as they could.

Forcing himself to look back at Michelangelo, Donatello caught his eye and he understood the message in his genius brother's gaze. Michelangelo could never know the true sacrifice that Raphael had made, because it would destroy him.

And so the lie was spun.

Raphael had died of his injuries; the bump on Michelangelo's head was the result of debris falling from the ceiling.

After breaking down into agonizing sobs of misery that ripped and tore at what remained of Leonardo's tattered heart and soul, Michelangelo accepted what they had told him had happened to their hot-headed brother.

Eventually, Michelangelo was able to relate the whole tale of how they had ended up in the warehouse and the words of comfort Raphael had shared with Michelangelo to keep their spirits up as they sat in the dark, hoping against hope to be rescued.

Michelangelo also told Leonardo why Raphael had purposefully shirked his duties that night and why Raphael constantly pushed Leonardo all the time.

Clutching his remaining brothers close, Leonardo listened to them weep, knowing that there was nothing he could do, or would be able to do to fill the void that had been left in all of their hearts at Raphael's death.

* * *

They buried Raphael next to their father at Casey's farm; his grave marked by a simple wooden marker that bore his name.

Their friends and family wept openly, talking about how brave, heroic and amazing Raphael had been, but only Leonardo and Donatello knew the true extent of Raphael's heroism, his bravery and his ultimate sacrifice.

Leonardo reached out, placing a red rose upon his brother's grave atop the multitude of white roses that lay upon it.

His brothers were quietly talking with April and Casey and he had wanted a few minutes alone at his brother's graveside.

A single tear slid down his cheek, which he quickly brushed away. It had only been a week, but in that week he had cried so many tears of sorrow, that he didn't think he had any more left, but apparently, there had been one more tear left.

Forcing a smile he looked upon brother's simple grave marker. "Thank you, Raphie," he said. "F-for everything."

He was thanking his brother for Michelangelo's life, but also, for himself; for Raphael having taken it upon himself, for making it his 'job' to remind Leonardo of who he was, and he swore on his brother's grave that he would never forget that again. "I love you."

**The End**

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who read this fic, I hope you enjoyed it even though the ending was heart-rending and tragic...**


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